


Screaming in the dark, I howl when we're apart

by flightinflame



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Cinnamon Roll Newt Scamander, Gellert Grindelwald Being an Asshole, Hurt Newt Scamander, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Protective Original Percival Graves, Werewolf Turning, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 03:40:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12696570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame/pseuds/flightinflame
Summary: Grindelwald finds a new game to play with Percival, throwing an injured young man down into the basement where he is trapped, to allow a friendship to form before forcing the ultimate betrayal. Unfortunately for him, Newton Scamander is used to taking anything involving creatures in his stride.





	Screaming in the dark, I howl when we're apart

**Author's Note:**

> Title from “Howl” by Florence + the Machine. Thanks goes out to lourdesdeath for proofreading, and triffidsandcuckoos for inspiring me in the first place. Initially for https://fantasticbeasts-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1184.html?thread=2250656#cmt2250656

It was meant to be a punishment. That was the strangest thing, when Percival looked back at it. Newt was busy at the stove, hacking apart dead meat for his creatures as his magic stirred something in the pot which made Percival salivate. At moments like this, looking at Newt's twisted arm, he couldn't stop thinking over what had happened. This punishment, this curse, changed everything. And it made everything better.

"Open," Newt instructed, walking over. His one working hand held out a spoon filled with soup. Obediently, Percival opened his mouth and let Newt feed him, taking the opportunity to rest his hand on Newt's hip. Newt looked up at him, his lips twisting in a smile. "You like it?"  
"I do." Percival answered as Newt returned to their cauldron. "Need me to take care of anyone?"  
"Could you feed the nundu?" Newt asked softly. "She should be alright but you're her favourite."  
Percival nodded, picking up a chunk of raw meat and leaning in to kiss Newt. He tasted of the chicken soup, and the case, and something else which was only Newt. That taste was one he always recognised. Newt's tender kiss always centered him. Newt squeezed his hand. "Remember to lock the case after," Newt reminded, and Percival nodded his agreement, running his hands up Newt's back, to the tangled mess of his right shoulder. His arm hung limply at his side, but his left arm pulled Percival closer.  
"You're thinking too much."  
"I think while I can," Percival answered, fingers caressing the the familiar knot of scars through Newt's shirt. "Not thinking did this to you."  
"It isn't your fault," Newt promised.

"Why do you stay?" Percival breathed. There was a world out there. Newt would find it harder to explore now, in his condition. But it would still be possible. Newt was a dreamer, and he could still pass, injury aside. But he stayed hidden beside Percival, traveling constantly, fleeing from dark wizards and old friends in the same breath. Newt deserved a better life than this, but Percival needed him to survive, and Newt stayed.  
"Because I want to," Newt said, certainty clear in his voice, the way it always was whenever he gave that answer. He glanced at the clock on the wall. "Three hours. Go and feed the nundu. I'll carry on getting ready."

Newt had struggled to learn how to use a wand left handed, but he adjusted and made do, the way that he always did. He faced the world with a smile on his face, even now, even cursed and condemned. He said Percival was the strong one, and in the obvious way he was. But not in the real way. It was Newt who gave Percival his strength. His kindness gave Percival a reason to live, even in the darkest moment of his life. As Percival climbed into the case, Newt floated two large shallow bowls over to his cauldron, ladling out the chicken soup into both of them, and then doing the same to two smaller bowls. A wave of his wand sent the smaller bowls over to the table as Newt prepared some bread for them. 

The creatures growled out a greeting as he approached, and Percival allowed himself to snarl in response, reminding them of how it worked, who was in charge now. His attempt at dominance was somewhat undone when one of the diricrawl chicks decided to pop into existence on his head. He dropped the meat to the floor in order to catch the little creature, which happily teleported back down to the floor, chirruping at him contentedly. He reached into a pocket, and pulled out a handful of sunflower seeds which he scattered on the floor before he picked up the meat and walked on to where the nundu waited for him, gazing up at him curiously.

Once his chores were completed, he headed up to the kitchen. There was more meat discarded on the floor, and Newt was sitting at the table. He'd put candles out today, and his skin glowed softly in the light, his eyes glittering. Percival went to join him, kicking off his shoes and coat, his feet brushing against Newt's own. This was his home now. Despite everything that monster had done to them, this was happiness.

***

He didn't know how long his world had shrunk to the cellar, the pain that Grindelwald sent through him as he searched for every last secret, tearing MACUSA's history from him with a dozen different spells. He managed to keep some ideas close, but with Grindelwald wearing his face he found enough. All Percival knew was the same four walls, the darkness, and the sound of footsteps on the floor above. He'd failed. That simple knowledge drove him to fight, even now. He had no idea how long this had been his prison, Grindelwald's spells stopping even his hair from growing. 

He knew he was losing his mind. There were days when he remembered his mother, thought that she was there. When he remembered her gentle laugh when he was a child, before he had been set away to learn the truth of what he was. How to fight. How to live up to his legacy. 

His hallucination was gentle, a peace after hours of pain. He wasn't going to fight it any more, not his sanity. He could let his madness overwhelm him. It would mean he was no longer of use for Grindelwald other than as a potions ingredient. He thought of Ilvermorny, of the war. Of anything that wasn't what Grindelwald wanted of him.

He was dreaming of his childhood when he heard the front door open. He didn't shout for help anymore. Grindelwald always returned alone. 

He heard movement above, and paid it no mind. It was easier to live every moment, or hide in the past, than think of what would be coming next. 

The basement door opened, and he blinked at the sudden burst of light which shone from the opening. He was still trying to recover his sight as he heard something falling down the stairs, thumping down the stone. The door slammed closed, and there was a faint whimpering from the base of the stairs, the sound of someone broken.  
"A present for you," Grindelwald called through the door, before his footsteps faded away.

Percival hesitated, but he could hear the sounds of a man in pain. It took a moment before his concern outweighed his caution, and he crept forwards.

Movement hurt him. He'd forgotten that, a myriad of scars and cuts stinging him with every inch he advanced. The whimpering from the base of the stairs was getting quieter, replaced by shallow breathing. Whoever was there was afraid.  
"Hello?" a voice called out. The voice was English, and for one moment he was reminded of Theseus before he realised the impossibility of that situation. Theseus was in Europe, chasing leads that Grindelwald spun, stringing him out like a fish on a line. "I can hear you," the voice continued. The speaker was male, not old, and quite softly spoken. He was also terrified.

"Hello," Percival echoed. "My name is Percival Graves."  
"Good to meet you sir." The man gasped, and by now he reached him. The man was curled up, and Percival ran his hands over him gently, checking for any injury. The man's hisses revealed several scrapes, and the lingering after-effects of some of Grindelwald's favourite torments, but nothing that meant death was imminent. As the touching continued the man lapsed into silence, although as he ran careful fingers across his jaw he could feel him speaking. Concentrating, he could hear what was being breathed.   
"Ukranian Ironbelly, Antipodean Opaleye, Catalonian Fireball, Chinese Fireball, Hebridean Black, Hungarian Horntail," the man continued on, echoing the words as a mantra, and as he moved away a little the newcomer whimpered in relief.

"I'm not here to hurt you," he promised, attempting to soothe. He was unsure if he was successful, but he couldn't listen to the man's fear and do nothing. For a few moments there was silence. He began to worry that the English man had slipped into unconsciousness when he spoke.  
"Newton Scamander. You can call me Newt..."

"Theseus's little brother?" Percival asked, startled. He had seen Newt in passing during the war, but not since then. Newt was off playing with creatures. His first thought was this was a new trick of Grindelwald's, to make him share his secrets. He reserved to say nothing of value.

"You know my brother?" Newt asked, and he sounded surprised. "He'll come and get us, I know he will-" there was a pause. "You're the Percival Graves he writes to, aren't you?"  
"I am," Percival agreed, helping Newt into a sitting position, relying on touch as it was too dark to see anything.

"So what are you doing here, Scamander?"  
"I don't know," Newt said softly, leaning into Percival's side, seeking comfort in his touch. "I mean, I can't help him. There's not..." He paused and shook his head. "I can't help him. I'm of no use. Not other than so he can hurt my brother, and maybe you. I'm bait." Newt's voice shook a little, and Percival wrapped an arm around him.   
"I won't let him turn me against MACUSA."  
"I would never ask that of you," Newt answered. "You do what you need to. I'll understand." Percival squeezed him close for a moment, and they lapsed into silence.

"So what's the hospitality like here?" Newt asked, leaning in to rest his head against Percival's shoulder.  
"I've certainly seen better before this," Percival muttered. "Not as bad as the war, your brother could tell you some stories, but..."

"Tell me now?" Newt asked. "I don't want to think about what's coming."  
Percival knew Grindelwald wanted him to get attached, but he still began to talk. Newt needed this, and he wasn't monster enough to deny him it. 

For now at least, they could find comfort in being close. They could hold onto each other, and when Grindelwald came to take them apart, at least Percival had one more person to stay strong for.

***

Grindelwald tortured Newt, to try and get answers from Percival. Percival stayed strong. When it was over, and they were plunged into darkness once more, he did what he could to tend to Newt's wounds. 

Other than the occasional agony, Grindelwald seemed contented to leave the two of them in peace. Newt spent much of his time close to Percival, telling him of exotic adventures and of creatures beyond anything he could imagine. It was clear that to Newt, it was his shelter. The case he told of, the animals he loved, it was a dream beyond anything else. Newt's home, and now Percival's too. From Newt, he learned every creature's names, their diets, their habits and their foibles. It was his world now, somewhere to escape from his prison. 

Newt spent almost all of his time leaning into Percival, soothed by the contact in the dark of the night. Percival could deny it soothed him, but he could feel the same comfort that Newt found in it. It was a reminder that Grindelwald was not the entire world.

The room filling with brilliant light was the first warning that they were not alone, as Grindelwald marched down the stairs, still wearing Percival's own face. He was followed by a man who was sneering at the two of them, his eyes sharp.  
"My darling boys." Grindelwald walked forwards, his magic pinning both of them in place. "I have decided I've been a little too generous with you. So today, I have a present for you."

Against Percival's side, Newt was tense, and he could hear him whispering again, listing a dozen different types of dragon so that he didn't have to think of what was coming next.  
"This is my friend, Gerwulf. He's here to help me deal with the both of you. Gerwulf, I will be back to see you come the morning. Do take good care of my boys." Percival's fingertips rubbed at Newt's arm, trying to soothe. Grindelwald began to walk up the stairs, then paused and turned towards them.  
"Scamander, accompany me."

There was a pause, as Newt tensed beside him, then a flick of Grindelwald's fingers set him up the stairs, leaving Percival with the other man's company. 

For once, Grindelwald's absence didn't take with it the lights. Instead, a few lights hung in the air, sending shadows skittering up the walls. Gerwulf was watching him closely, but kept his distance for now, for a moment longer. Gerwulf said nothing, and Percival remained silent, thinking of Newt. He worried about what could be happening to him, of the state he would be in when he returned. He was sure of course that Newt would be returned. It was unimaginable that things would happen otherwise.

Percival had expected assault, pain, further demands. But Gerwulf just watched him silent, his gaze boring into Percival's soul for a few more moments, before he stood and stretched.

It took a moment for Percival to realise the change that was happening, Gerwulf's fingers lengthening, his face twisting, his mouth growing and becoming full of sharpened teeth. Percival had encountered wolves before. The shifters that his aurors had defeated, that they had killed. But now he faced him powerless.

With a sense of horror he realised what Grindelwald was planning on doing to him. Grindelwald planned to deny him his humanity.

He fought that night. Of course he had fought. He screamed and snarled and kicked out, tried to keep the monster from him. But it didn't last.

Morning found him bleeding, a fresh bite mark on his arm. Gerwulf was looking down at him from the stairs, and the door opened. He walked up in silence, and the lights went with him, leaving Percival alone. There was nothing in return.

Life after Newt was far worse than life before. He felt feverish, his heart racing as his mind conjured images of what might have happened to his companion. He paced his cell, feeling sick with fear, and waiting. He didn't know how long it was. No food or water appeared for a long time, and he began to wonder if Grindelwald planned for him to starve here. He was hungry, ravenous. His fever was worsening. Sometimes he would fall asleep, and wake up more bruised. But Grindelwald left him alone. He seemed to have served his purpose. This final curse was one last torture before he was left to die.

Eventually, food arrived, in the form of the leg of a cow, raw. Percival glared at the food, angered by it, but eventually hunger overruled pride and he fell on the meat, tearing into it with hands and mouth, until hunger no longer gnawed at him. He pushed the remainder of the food aside, and resumed his lonely vigil.

***

"Percival, my darling boy..." Grindelwald's voice woke him with a shock, and he looked up to see that Grindelwald was standing in the doorway. "You do look... well, you do look wonderful. I hear that Gerwulf left you marked. Tainted. Even if you escape you will never be normal, and you will never forget me. I own you." There was a pause, before he walked forwards, wand out to keep Percival in place. He ruffled Percival's hair as Percival drew back his lips in a snarl.  
"Where is Newt?" hH growled.  
"Newt's fine," Grindelwald promised. "Don't you worry about him, I wouldn't let anything bad happen to him. Not when his brother and you both care so much about him." Grindelwald looked down at Percival curiously, gripping under his chin so that Percival was forced to gaze at him. "Now... I don't think that you believe me, do you?"   
Percival snarled once more. He didn't trust Grindelwald, not when the man wore his face and spoke so gently of the horrors he had caused.

"That's quite alright." Grindelwald released his hand, and Percival tried to curl up slightly, to shelter himself as Grindelwald stepped away. "You can see for yourself." He pushed Newt through the door, then locked it.

Newt stayed standing on the top step, breathing slowly in an attempt to remain calm.  
"Newt?" Percival called up. "Did he hurt you? Come down, it's okay..." Percival was furious as his mind provided images of what Grindelwald might have done to his Newt. He didn't speak the thoughts aloud. Newt deserved better. 

 

Newt stayed still in the darkness, remaining at the top of the stairs.   
"Can you walk?" Percival called out, stepping towards the stairs.  
"I can. I saw some food down here."  
"Has he not fed you?" Percival asked, sickened.  
"Not that. A little," Newt answered. "But I need you to eat."

"It's raw," Percival muttered, and Newt laughed. It wasn't a gentle laugh. It was a horrible thing, a monstrous sound born of fear and horror.   
"Please, Percival." Newt's voice shook, and he sounded broken. "If you want me to live through tonight, I need you to eat some of that."

Percival frowned, horror slowly digging into his soul as he began to understand what Grindelwald's plan was.  
"Tonight?" he asked. He hadn't thought it had been so long. He felt his way by touch to where the abandoned meat lay, and took a bite. It tasted revolting, but he reminded himself he was doing this in an attempt to save Newt. That if he failed, Newt would be lost to him.

"I've had what I can," he said after several minutes.  
"Thank you." Newt sighed. "I want to come down, but I don't know how much time we have.... Percival, whatever happens, this isn't your fault. He's the monster. This is Grindelwald's doing, not your own."   
Percival closed his eyes in the darkness. "Could you restrain me or something?" he asked helplessly. "There must be some way-"  
"It's going to happen," Newt said, half to himself.

"What do I do?" Percival asked. He was feeling lost, his thoughts becoming fuzzy. But it was clear that Newt knew about this - Theseus had always said that Newt knew about creatures. That was what he was now, a beast.   
"You may as well undress. We don't need your clothes being ruined, and it's dark in here," Newt said, and his voice was trembling slightly. "I need you to make sure that whatever food is left, if there is any, you'll see it."  
"It's dark."  
"You'll be able to see soon," Newt said, his voice weak. "If you eat that first, it's likely I won't get much worse than a few nips."  
"But you'll still be -" Words failed Percival. He didn't know how to convey the true enormity of the horror that lay ahead.   
"I'll be transformed," Newt agreed. "Grindelwald gave me the powder I need to seal the wound after I receive it. It's a game to him, and there's no fun in it if I bleed to death. But once we're out I can create wolfsbane potion. We'll be in control. But this is going to be painful for you, and I'm sorry about that." 

"You don't want me to kill you?" Percival offered. It hurt to do that, but he couldn't force this on Newt. He was already losing his concentration, but Newt was surprisingly calm about the entire situation. He undressed as Newt had suggested, putting his clothing in the corner, folding it by touch. He had to hang onto those last vestiges of humanity.   
"I want to live," Newt said firmly. "I'll live. And you will live too." Newt whimpered, and Percival suddenly became aware of the taste of salt in the air. Raising his head, he saw that Newt was crying, his lips moving. Listing dragons, he could hear those whispers now. He snarled slightly, not liking Newt's sadness, and then the pain began.

Pain.

It hurt, like fire, like traps, like a thousand knives digging into his skin, like jaws. Like fangs closing and tearing away his humanity. A howl slipped between his lips, and he threw his head back, sobbing and snarling as the world around him got brighter and louder, as though he was in the middle of a crowded street. As though it was in the forest in midsummer. He was in so much agony he thought his heart would give out, and it was howling its agony out at a world that hated it, in a darkness that denied it even the beauty of the moon. It howled its anger, screaming to those nearby for a mercy that would not come. It fell to the ground, fur slick with sweat, and grunted its fury.

There was meat. Not fresh, but the pain was receding and in its place was hunger. It managed a leap forwards, jaws tearing through the flesh and skin, feasting on the gift it had been offered. Its teeth clattered against the bone, and it bit harder, gripping the bone with its jaws and slamming it against the rock to crack it. It was rewarded by the sweetness of the marrow, licking down into the cavity, and chewing through the remainder of the length, feeling it crunch beneath its fangs. 

Spitting out a few shards of bone, it sniffed the air. There was a man up the steps. It bounded towards the steps, slipping a little on the cool stone. It took a couple of attempts to clamber up the steps, its paws failing to find a grip. But it reached the man. It sniffed him. He was shaking, and a lick to his face tasted of salt. It sniffed him curiously. It was no longer hungry, but it wasn't sure how a man would taste. It wanted to find out. It jumped up, digging its teeth sharply into his forelimb. The man screamed in agony, flailing out in pain.

It jumped backwards, teeth still clasped around the man's forelimb, pulling him with it as they tumbled down the stairs. It heard the sound of glass breaking, and something sharp stabbed into the tender flesh of its paw. The man was limp, and it tugged on the forelimb again, trying to get a response. The man sobbed, and it watched as he pressed his other hand to the injured limb. There was a lot of blood, the scent filling the room. It leaned in to lick the blood clean, tongue scouring the wound. The wound tasted bad now, and it moved to lick at the man's hair, nipping at his back and side before it got bored and focused instead on licking the floor clean of blood.

Satisfied and full, it curled up to sleep. It felt the man move closer, nuzzling against it, but he wasn't doing anything dangerous, so it tolerated the presence. The man was still whimpering softly, and babbling to himself, but it ignored the noises. None of it posed a danger, not now. Not after it had eaten. The human wouldn't try and steal what was left of its food, and was still leaking blood which it cleaned up with gentle swipes of its tongue. The man's hand found the shard of glass embedded in its paw, and pulled it free with surprising tenderness.

***

Percival woke slowly. He was cold, the floor chilling his bare skin. His mind still felt twisted and tainted with fog, but with each breath he could feel it clearing. Opening his eyes, he saw the same darkness as before. Stretching out both hands, he first felt the curved and pitted surface of a bone. He remembered that, remembered crunching it. And he could still taste the lingering blood in his mouth. He was a monster.

"You woke up?" came Newt's voice from his side. He twisted towards him, and the memories of last night flooded him. It was Newt's blood that he had tasted. He had sunk his teeth into Newt's shoulder and thrown him.  
"Are..." Percival began, and then his words fell silent. He didn't know what to ask. Not if Newt was okay, not after what he had done.  
"I can't feel my right arm," Newt said softly. "And I spilled some of the silver and dittany, so I might have quite a nasty scar. But you did it. You kept me alive."

Newt sounded almost grateful, and it was that which made Percival retch brokenly. He'd done this and Newt sounded so calm, so accepting... Newt whimpered and he focused once more.  
"Could we sit together?" Newt asked. "It hurts still, and if I'm talking to you, I'll be less likely to pass out."  
"Talk to me," Percival agreed, manouvering Newt onto his lap as tenderly as he could. "Tell me whatever you need to. We'll find a way to make this alright."  
"It already is alright," Newt murmured, but he leaned back against Percival, and Percival could feel his skin was hot. He shuddered, wondering about infection. He wanted to see what he had done, but the room was too dark, and touching the injury made Newt whimper.

"So what now?" Percival asked after a short while. Keeping Newt talking meant he'd stay awake, and that could save him.  
"We make this work," Newt said softly "And we get out of here."

"We're monsters," Percival reminded, his voice almost gentle as he fought to hide his anger at their fate. Newt shrugged a little in his grasp, then hissed at the movement.   
"We'll change one day in every month, near enough. That's twelve nights a year, really that's nothing. We can manage it. And once I get us some wolfsbane potion, we'll be able to keep the anger and hunger in check. It's not the disaster you fear." Newt said that with such certainty that Percival felt calmer.

"I destroyed your arm."  
"I fell down the stairs," Newt answered. "When we get out we can see about treating it. For now, we work on building our strength. We need to find a way to get out of here." He spoke with utter certainty, and it took a couple of moments before Percival trusted himself to speak again.  
"I'll attack him. He thinks he's ruined me..." Percival explained. "It might make him weak. We'll find a way.

***

The other creature was the same as it. It had a damaged forelimb, limping a little with every step, but it smelt familiar so it didn't mind its injury. It wanted to help it to survive, and was taking care of it. That was working for now, as it groomed the injured beast, as it nuzzled its face against the other creature's, and let it know that it was wanted, that it was where it belonged.  
The other that was like it howled softly, and accompanied its vocalization with a gentle nudge of comfort, its soft fur brushing its own. It was contented for a moment.

When the door opened it whimpered, crawling backwards, its companion joining it. It looked up at the stairs, despite the brilliant gleam, and saw a man standing there, a twig grasped in his hand.  
The man stepped forwards, down the stairs, his stick pointed at them. The man was babbling away in a strange tongue, laughing occasionally while keeping his stick facing directly towards them. He lashed out with his stick, sending sparks dancing across the other creature's body, making it howl. The man was babbling faster now, relishing in hurting it. 

It wasn't letting its companion suffer. It launched forwards towards the man, biting and snarling. A previous time, it had not meant to kill, but this time it channelled all of its fury and hatred at the man. His blood was hot in its throat. It tore more, tearing apart parts of his flesh. Its companion whimpered from the floor, and it batted the corpse towards the other, letting it take its turn to destroy their tormentor.

***

Percival woke to the taste of blood, and opened his eyes to see that he was no longer in the darkness. Newt lay naked beside him, his uninjured arm sprawled across Percival's chest. Seeing the injury on Newt's body for the first time, the half-healed scar that he had inflicted, was horrible. He shuddered, and lifted his head a little to see more. The first thing he noticed was the body lying broken on the floor. Grindelwald's hair had returned to blond. He was still wearing Percival's clothes, and there were bits of his body strewn across the cellar. He had been torn apart. 

Gently, Percival stroked Newt's uninjured arm, waking him. Newt blinked up at him, lost, and Percival saw the blood left around Newt's face. "Hey?" he greeted him. "You awake?"  
"Am now," Newt agreed, stretching and then gasping as he saw the dead body. "We did it."  
Percival nodded, going to pull his clothes back on, and picking up his wand, the wand that had been stolen from him for so long. It was reassuring to have it in his hand.

"They'll see the scars," Newt said softly, and Percival sighed before nodding his agreement. He hated that, wanted to be able to resume his old life, but they had both already agreed that it would be a lost cause. Creatures like them were not wanted within MACUSA, within the community of Magic as a whole.  
"Then we flee," Percival agreed. "To England to start with."  
"My brother will shelter us," Newt said, with utter conviction. Percival had known Theseus for long enough to recognise the truth in those words. Theseus would die before he allowed any harm to come to Newt, and it would be that fact which would save them both. He helped Newt with the buttons of his shirt, and took his uninjured hand to lead him out from the basement. He paused for a moment, gazing into Newt's eyes, taking in his expression for the first time. He was blood-smeared and in need of a bath, but he was beautiful.

Newt leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Percival's cheek.   
"Need to find my wand," he said softly. "And then, we've got a long way to go."   
"Your brother said you have a case-"  
"It returned home. I was lucky, there was time to activate the spell that sent it to my brother."  
"And that's nothing to do with why you want to see him?" Percival teased fondly, before getting a scrap of paper and writing out a quick letter to Seraphina - telling her where to find Grindelwald's body, that he had been impersonated, and that if she had any further questions she had best pass them on to the Ministry of Magic, FAO Theseus Scamander. He considered writing an apology, but this was too big for simple words. He sent the paper to Seraphina's house, and went to wash, before leading Newt out into the world beyond. 

*** 

Newt smiled across the table at him, as they finished their soup. Percival gazed at him fondly.  
"You ready?" Newt asked fondly, throwing a piece of apple up into the air where it was snatched by Dougal. He poured out two shot glasses of a familiar liquid, and they downed them together. Percival screwed his face up at the taste.  
"I am ready."

Dougal clambered up to perch above a cabinet, as the two of them drew their wands, making all the changes necessary to secure the wand. The potion would help, but it was best not to take risks. Dougal was there to keep them company, and to fetch Theseus if it became necessary. For now though, they could relax. The room was safe, the case locked away, and they were both full of food. Life was good. 

The sky darkened, and Newt undressed. Percival began undressing at the same time, slipping his clothes from his body. He lay down beside Newt, and kissed Newt for a moment before the sun set The two of them lay side by side in the darkness, as the change swept through the two of them.

His mate, Newt, was close to his side, leading the way over to the bowls of food that had been left out, and then the fresh meat beside it. The two of them cuddled together, nuzzling into each other's sides, grooming each other. The white monkey creature crawled over, stroking their heads, and they began to relax. They weren't alone, and they could stay calm together, pacing from side to side, cuddling up in the safety of their contact. 

He realised with some fondness that there was blood on Newt's muzzle, and he leaned in to lick him clean, his nose brushing against Newt's own. Newt's tail wagged in sheer joy, and he cuddled up as Dougal brushed his fingers through Newt's fur, the two of them cuddled up. Percival could protect him now. If anyone tried to attack them, he would tear them limb from limb, if he was human or not. 

Newt rolled over onto his back, letting Percival nuzzle against his stomach, his tail still wagging contentedly. Percival licked his cheek fondly and started to howl, joy bursting from him. Newt howled as well, and Dougal chittered delightedly.

In the morning, Newt cooked a lot of bacon, and the two of them devoured that and raw steak, before going to check on the creatures.


End file.
